


Brush Up Your Shakespeare

by aces



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friendship, Shakespeare, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-18
Updated: 2010-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like that line in <em>Star Trek VI</em>: You haven't read Shakespeare until you've read it in the original Klingon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brush Up Your Shakespeare

They were late making it to the entertainment, which probably wouldn't look good to their hosts or to General Hammond; but Jack's reaction was probably even worse, from a diplomatic and aesthetic point of view.

"What on _Earth_?"

"But we're not on Earth, Jack," Daniel said innocently from behind him. "We're on P2X-784."

"I know that," Jack snapped. "Which is why _this_ should be impossible."

"If we are witnessing it," Teal'c wondered aloud, "does that not therefore make it possible?"

"It _shouldn't_ be!" Jack retorted.

"Shhh," Sam said, trying to pay attention.

"I have of late," the speaker on the makeshift stage was telling his spellbound audience, "but wherefore I know not lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so."

"It's _Shakespeare_," Jack hissed, tugging at Daniel's arm to pull him a little apart from the audience and their two team members, who had taken seats at the back of the crowd and were engrossed in the action onstage. Daniel had been engrossed too, even if Jack kept yammering at him.

Yammering, Daniel thought, that has to be a _Jack_ word. Hell.

"I know it is," Daniel said patiently as Jack pulled him behind an expansive, lush green bush. He tried to peer around it to follow the play, even if he did have a pretty good memory of what happened next. It still made for some _fascinating_ cross-cultural pollination, and he'd already seen enough of this world's version to wonder if perhaps he _didn't_ actually know what was going to happen next. This was exactly the sort of thing he loved to witness, and of course Jack was distracting him from it all.

"_Hamlet_!" Jack continued.

Daniel blinked. "You recognized the text?" he asked.

Jack glared. "Don't change the subject," he snapped, and Daniel wished it wasn't so bright outside that Jack was wearing his sunglasses; he would dearly loved to have seen the expression in Jack's eyes. "How is this _possible_? I'm pretty sure there wasn't a Gate readily available in the early seventeenth century for aliens to capture Shakespeare, Daniel."

Daniel shrugged. "The Goa'uld aren't the only aliens around," he pointed out comfortably. "We've met the Asgard—uh, kinda—we met Nem, we know there have been other races in this galaxy who worked in conjunction with the Asgard. Who's to say somebody _didn't_ land a spaceship on Earth and kidnap Shakespeare?" He grinned brightly. "Maybe all those stories about Elvis are true after all."

That earned him another swift glare from Jack, and a finger shake of all things. "Don't let Teal'c hear you say that," the colonel ordered him. "He gets enough _ideas_ from those tabloids of his."

"Okay, I won't," Daniel sighed. "Can we please get back to the play? I want to hear the rest."

Without waiting for a reply, he gently removed his arm from Jack's grasp—Jack may or may not have been surprised to find he was still gripping his teammate—and walked back around the bush to take a seat on the grass in the back of the audience, next to Sam and Teal'c, just in time for Hamlet to declare himself a rogue and peasant slave.

The customary appreciative response on this planet, apparently, was to clap both hands on one's legs. The team—including a reluctant and eye-rolling Jack, eventually—joined in the applause at the end of the play, as the fallen cast members stood up to dust themselves off and beam at the audience. "Most interesting," Teal'c said. "Was it not an excellent interpretation of the text, Daniel Jackson?"

"I liked it," Sam put in. She nudged her commanding officer, cautiously. "C'mon, sir, didn't you like it? The fight scenes were good," she added enticingly.

"Yeah, okay," Jack grumbled, "Hamlet and Laertes pulled some nice sword moves there at the end, fine. But _Shakespeare_? On another _planet_?"

"Haven't we seen stranger things?" Daniel asked patiently.

"You making airplane noises?" Jack retorted.

"You getting really, really old?" Daniel countered.

"Oh, that's just low," Jack glared.

"I've always thought Ophelia should have kicked Hamlet in the balls," Sam interrupted brightly, turning to Teal'c.

Jack and Daniel both turned to stare at her.

"Indeed," Teal'c said, with a single, thoughtful nod.

"Come on," Daniel stood up, brushing down his pant legs. "We should go and tell Henris and Jonta and the others what a wonderful time we had."

"We wouldn't want them to think we didn't like it," Sam agreed, as Teal'c gave her a hand up. She smiled up at him by way of thanks.

"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war," Jack said thoughtfully, and then he stood up, with a wince when his knees popped, to find his teammates staring at him. "I'm just saying," he said defensively, "we wouldn't want to _upset_ them. They might…call out the dogs of war. You know. They do that sometimes."

"Wrong play, Jack," Daniel said.

"I _know_ that," Jack sounded aggrieved, "it's from _Julius Cea_—" He clamped his mouth shut.

"Ha!" Daniel jumped in front of the colonel. "Ah-_ha_! I _knew_ you knew your Shakespeare!"

Jack glared at him, and then flipped his sunglasses back down over his eyes, even though the suns were beginning to set. "Quotes come up on 'The Simpsons' sometime," he said and stomped away.

"Don't worry," Sam said, patting Daniel on the arm, "I'm sure he's lying."

"I have known him to quote _Henry V_ often," Teal'c added. "Particularly after numerous beers." He remained serene, and didn't look at Daniel. "You are usually already passed out, Daniel Jackson."

"Huh." Daniel adjusted his boonie. "You know I never drink beer, Teal'c."

"Oh nooo," Sam agreed, her voice so sweetly innocent it was amazing she didn't give herself instant cavities. "Never."

They bickered amicably as they walked across the sprawling village to rejoin the colonel, Henris, Jonta, and some of the other villagers. The team voiced their praise of the play and complimented the actors when they joined the group, and Jack allowed himself to be persuaded to stay over one more night. "There's still a few kinks to iron out," he said to his team, and they all nodded seriously and only grinned at each other when he turned away.

"You also know the great Bard?" Henris asked that night at dinner. As one of the elders, he usually invited a great many people to his house for dinner, and tonight was no exception; the main room to his house was filled with tables and chatting guests.

"He is well remembered on our planet, yes," Daniel said.

"He did _come_ from there," Jack muttered, and Daniel kicked him under the long table at which they sat.

"Then please, give us one of your favorite speeches," Jonta invited. The oral tradition was strong in their culture; not surprising, Daniel had said a couple days earlier, since their writing system was fairly rudimentary. A lot had been lost, he thought, judging by the precious few artifacts, including books and other written materials, the people had uncovered over the years. The Goa'uld had never found this planet but something had happened to cause some kind of dark age. Every night since SG-1 had arrived, Henris' and Jonta's people had shared stories and music; every night, they had asked SG-1 to join in with their own tales and songs.

Tonight, the team looked at each other. Sam shook her head. "I had to memorize the prologue from _Romeo and Juliet_ when I was in eighth grade," she said. "I can remember 'Two households, both alike in dignity' and that's about as far as I get."

"Oh hell no," Jack said, fairly definitively.

Daniel frowned. "I once had to translate a passage from _Much Ado About Nothing_ into German," he said. "That was enough for me."

Teal'c stood up.

"Oh, this better be good," Jack said under his breath, and moved his foot before Daniel could kick him again.

"No, my fair cousin;" Teal'c began, his voice ringing out,  
"If we are mark'd to die, we are enow   
To do our country loss; and if to live,   
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.   
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.   
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,   
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,   
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,   
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;   
We would not die in that man's company   
That fears his fellowship to die with us.   
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.   
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,   
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,   
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.   
He that shall live this day, and see old age,   
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,   
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'   
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,   
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'   
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,   
But he'll remember, with advantages,   
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,   
Familiar in his mouth as household words-   
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,   
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-   
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.   
This story shall the good man teach his son;   
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,   
From this day to the ending of the world,   
But we in it shall be remembered-   
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;   
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me   
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,   
This day shall gentle his condition;   
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed   
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,   
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks   
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

For a moment there was silence after Teal'c had finished, and then the villagers started applauding with gusto. Teal'c bowed his head, once, and sat down again. He started eating another piece of bread.

"Wow," Sam said—inadequately, she felt.

"Okay," Jack agreed, "that was good."

"_Who_ quotes _Henry V_ again?" Daniel asked, and Teal'c might just possibly have started grinning about then.

*

"Thank you," Jack said the next morning as they took their leave of the people of P2X-874, with all the surprising sincerity he could conjure when he chose to. "We had a lovely visit with you, and I know our two peoples can be great friends."

"Thank _you_," Jonta replied, taking both Jack's hands warmly. "We are always glad to make new friends through the Great Circle."

Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c finished saying their good-byes as well, and the four team members looked at each other before turning toward the DHD and the Stargate. Sam punched in the symbols while Teal'c started toward the Gate. Jack looked at Daniel speculatively.

"Exit," he started, and Daniel looked at him and laughed and finished with him,

"Pursued by a bear."

And SG-1 walked through the Stargate.


End file.
